In The Palm Of My Hand
by AwkwardFudgeball
Summary: In which Steve gives Dustin some somewhat motherly advice. Bromance. T for language, *complete*


**I figured I'd take a tiny ( _tiny)_ break from writing Mileven and write some motherly Steve Harrington.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Cheetos, KFC, or Stranger Things.**

 _"Hello?"_

"Steve, it's Dustin -"

 _"I'm about to go on a date, dipshit,"_ Steve used dipshit almost affectionately at this point, _"Can't you and your friends wait?"_

"Well, my friends might be able to, seeing as they're _not here_ ," Dustin said.

 _"Okay, kid, is there something actually going on or are you lonely?"_

"I need a ride home," Dustin said, "I'm at the arcade,"

 _"Can't you bike?"_

"Can't ride a bike that's not there, Harrington,"

 _"Alright, Henderson,"_ Steve said, sighing, _"I'll cancel my date. I'll be there in ten,"_

"Thank you Steve, I really owe you -"

There was a long buzzing as Steve hung up the phone.

"One."

Dustin struck up a conversation with the pimply (and incredibly dull) Keith in a last ditch resort to occupy himself for the following ten minutes. He had to, once again, tell the poor guy that he could not get a date with Nancy Wheeler for two reasons. The first of which being that she was with Jonathan Byers ("yes, the creep with a camera"). The second reason being that he didn't have the necessary resources to fulfill his request ("she's not _my_ sister, Keith"). But, hey, at least he got some Cheetos before he saw Steve pull into the parking lot of the arcade.

"Hurry up, shithead," Steve said while Dustin struggled with shoving his bike (with a severely flattened tire) into the trunk.

"Is it possible for you to go one day without calling me shithead?" Dustin asked as he finally closed the hatch and hopped in the front seat.

"Okay, dipshit," Steve said, pulling out of the parking lot a little too quickly.

"Or dipshit," Dustin said.

"It's a pet-name. It's cute,"

"If you say so, Steve," Dustin said, sighing and looking out the window. A couple minutes of silence passed before Steve spoke.

"Alright; what's with the long face?" He said, "You're usually talking my ear off, and now you're just staring out the window like you're in a Calvin Klein commercial,"

Dustin didn't say anything.

"Where's your little entourage? How come you're here by yourself?"

"Well, I wasn't here by myself," Dustin said, "Lucas was here, but he went to hang out with Max. Mike is grounded for sneaking out to see Eleven. And Will -Mrs. Byers; you know,"

"Wow," Steve said, "I'm sorry, shit -Dustin,"

Dustin fell silent again. Steve was beginning to grow worried when the boy finally spoke again,

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure kid," Steve said, taking his eyes off the road for half a second to catch the thoughtful expression on Dustin's face.

"How old were you when you got your first girlfriend?" Dustin asked, "I mean, a real one. Not like a first grade thing,"

Steve thought for a moment before answering, "I guess I was around eleven or twelve. Although, Rebecca Bentley from first grade was a pretty good catch,"

Steve was chuckling a bit before he took notice of Dustin's frown. He pulled over to the side of the road.

"Okay, talk to me. What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Mike has Eleven. He's not even with the party as much anymore because she's still in hiding and he's with her. And Lucas has Max; they aren't as bad, but they always hold hands or give each other puppy eyes when they think no one's paying attention. I guess I still kind of like her,"

"What did I tell you, Dustin? You're too young for this. You don't need to get your heart broken yet. Or ever, but it's kind of unavoidable," Steve said, shaking his head, "What about Will?"

"He has this Linda girl. They're not a _thing_ thing, but they're a thing," Dustin said, ignoring the confused look on ol' Steve's face, "At least he still hangs out with me. But it kind of makes you think, you know? I'm the only one. Is there something wrong with me? Is it the hair?"

"Dipshit, there is nothing wrong with you. And definitely not with your hair. You've learned from the master," Steve said, "Okay? So you don't have a girlfriend yet. You're in the eighth grade. You have plenty of time for that. Girls your age are dumb; they can't see what's right in front of them, because you'd be a catch if they'd just throw out a line,"

"You called me dipshit again,"

"No, I didn't. I called you Dustin,"

"Don't deny it, Harrington,"

"Okay, so let's say I did let one slip. What are you gonna do? Take my keys? Lecture me on the importance of respect?" Steve said, cracking a slight grin as he restarted the car.

"I don't need to do anything," Dustin said, sporting the same grin, "I've already got you in the palm of my hand,"

"What? Think again, Henderson," Steve said as he gave a light chuckle.

"Didn't you babysit my mom's new cat while we were out of town last month because I asked you to?"

"It payed well,"

"It was _five bucks_ , Steve," Dustin argued, "And you canceled a date to come get me, didn't you?"

"Yes, but -"

"Was she pretty?'

"Well, yeah -"

"Really pretty?"

"She was gorgeous, but that doesn't -"

"Admit it, Harrington," Dustin said. Steve's car had rolled into the Hendersons' driveway, "I've got you wrapped around my finger,"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid," Steve said, just quiet enough to slip by unheard. Steve couldn't deny Dustin's claim, however. That kid had him in the palm of his hand -although he'd never admit it.

"Oh, and Steve?" Dustin said, peeking his head through the half-closed car door, "You can come inside and eat with us. I'm sure my mom wouldn't care. You know, since your date got canceled because of me,"

Steve stared at the kid with a look that said _'are you insane?'_ , but Dustin was persistent. He stared right back with his own pleading countenance.

"It's meatloaf night,"

Steve had to admit that a hot meal with actual people instead of leftover KFC in front of a TV for once sounded nice. Besides, the little shithead was upset.

"Okay," Steve agreed.

"Okay?" Dustin asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yeah," Steve said. He clambered out of the car and followed Dustin to the front door, listening to the boy's chatter about how great the meatloaf was and how much his mom would like him and thinking to himself, _This kid is going to be the death of me._

 **You've been blessed with my Mama Steve/Dustin trash. Hope you enjoyed it :)**


End file.
